


Space Oddity

by o0aurora0o



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF oc, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, I created a whole damn race for this fic, One-Shot, Pre-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Protective Yondu Udonta, References to David Bowie, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Some angst, and an entire backstory, and i spent about 5 months on this, i just enjoy making things more complicated for myself, so you better like it, wait no i created TWO whole damn races for this fic, which doesn't affect anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0aurora0o/pseuds/o0aurora0o
Summary: After a mission from Yondu goes wrong, Peter finds himself at the hands of Gen; a tough chick sent by Yondu who breaks him out of prison. Stuck on her ship for 12 hours before they reach the Ravagers, Peter decides to entertain himself by annoying the hell out of her. She's a tough nut to crack, but he's willing to try and break through. And he does.Title inspired by David Bowie's 'Space Oddity'.





	Space Oddity

**_Peter_ **

Yondu was going to kick his ass. And that was without question.

Peter found himself wound up in another prison on a planet he had never been on -  _Koitov or Koishore?_  - after being caught stealing supplies from a mercenary. In Peter's defence, he was told by Yondu that said mercenary was a dimwit. Turned out he was a 7-foot green-skinned asshole who nearly snapped Peter's back in half with his knee.

At least Peter was lucky enough to have only one cellmate, although that cellmate was a scrawny blue kid with brown horns protruding from his forehead. He was quiet and stayed crouched in the same position since Peter got in his cell a day ago; back pressed against the corner and eyes constantly darting away from his. Probably another one of those species who hated humans, but hey, for good reason. He didn't recognise the kid's species but did look a bit like Yondu, blue and weird but less burly and much smaller.

A guard stopped in front of the clear screen separating them. The guards in this prison were covered head to toe in heavy armour, huge helmets with tinted visors covering their heads and each had huge guns in their grasp, which Peter assumed was for intimidation purposes. There was not a single weak spot in the costume which sucked for him since he couldn't fight his way through them - not even the back of the knee was left open, for god's sake! - but he knew that his guns, mask and Walkman were only a few doors down. Maybe he could charm one of them into getting a new cell?

"Quill," the guard spoke, sounding vaguely female but it was difficult to tell. He learned quickly that they all had these voice-changing devices stored in their helmet, likely to protect their identity. Apparently, prisoners didn't like prison guards. Shocker. "Get up."

"If you wanna check me out, all you gotta do is ask," Quill quipped, sending her a little side smirk.

The guard shifted the gun in her hands, a finger deliberately resting over the trigger. "I'm not repeating myself."

Peter hauled himself off his cot, spreading his arms out by his hands with raised eyebrows. "What next, Sarge? Want me to strip, too?"

"No," she stated curtly. No chance of a seduction then. "Turn around, hands behind your head."

He complied, turning his body and interlocking his fingers behind his head. He heard the screen separating them dissipate before heavy boots stepped closer, the barrier raising behind her.

"Take one step out of line and I will shoot you," the guard said, now standing directly behind the outlaw. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist and Peter took his chance: he was going to fight his way out of here.

But Peter didn't even get a dent in the helmet before he was instead slammed hard against the wall in front of him, cheek mushed, and hands trapped between the guard's front and his back.

"Yondu sent me, smartass," the guard presumably hissed in his ear, but the voice changing device made her sound emotionless. Peter's eyebrows pulled together, well,  _one_ eyebrow since the other was pressed against the wall. "Yeah, and if you try anything like that again I will actually shoot you. Follow me and don't try anything clever." She pushed away from him roughly and took a step back, giving him space.

Peter brushed himself off and wondered, Yondu never sent anyone to help him out, so why now? He always said that if he got himself in a sticky situation, he'd have to un-stick himself out of it. Not a great metaphor, but hey, maybe he was finally growing a heart in that cold, ice blue body, sending someone to help him.

"Kid." The guard pointed to the horned child who was shaking, wide eyes darting between Peter and the woman. "What are you in for?"

The kid looked at her with wide eyes, his lips moving like he was speaking but Peter couldn't hear any words come out.

When the woman snorted, Peter frowned. "Good job, slugger. Get up and follow me." Was he telepathic? Was  _she_  telepathic?

The kid's jet-black eyebrows furrowed but he didn't object. He was about 4-foot-tall, which Peter assumed was because of his race rather than his age since he looked like he was in his teens. Some aliens who were thousands of years old looked Peter's age, so he could be very wrong. "Hands out. No funny business," she ordered, pulling out two sets of cuffs from her belt. She cuffed their hands in front of them and Peter had another urge to disarm her but, well, he wasn't one to refuse needed help. Even if he very badly wanted to.

The guard - well,  _not-guard_  - swiped a card and the barrier disappeared. They stepped through, and Peter and the kid trailed behind the woman as she walked across the long oval platform. Peter leaned his head over the edge and saw a few dozen guards patrolling the floors below as well as the one they were on. He looked up and saw that there were dozens of floors above them, too. Damn. Big prison.

"Stop hovering over the railing like that," non-guard ordered, still facing forward. "It looks suspicious. Pretend someone you loved just perished in a horrible fire." Odd request but it was doable.

They walked past a guard similarly dressed to the woman in front of them, but his build was much bigger; a head taller than Peter with shoulders that probably spanned a meter. He didn't turn his head as they walked past but gave the woman a firm nod, which she returned. They passed a few more guards whose eyes followed the trio. Peter could feel the cold stares prickle the back of his neck.

He almost crashed into the woman's back when she abruptly stopped in front of a metal door. She opened it using the same card she used in his cell. The horned kid was staring up at her with wide eyes. Poor guy didn't know what the hell was going on.

She practically pushed them in before locking the door behind her.

The first thing Peter noticed that it was the same room where he was hosed down yesterday. It was a bland room with a drain in the centre and a table pushed against the wall where Peter had to place his clothes.

The second thing he noticed was that there was a nearly naked guard slumped in the corner, unconscious. A crack in the wall above his head made Peter assume that he was knocked out, brutally, too, by the looks of it. There was a pile of neatly folded clothes next to the body which looked way too small for the unconscious man, so he assumed that non-guard stole the guard's outfit when she broke in. But how did she get in without being noticed?

And then the third thing Peter noticed was the large open vent in the ceiling. Right. That would probably explain it.

Movement from the corner of his eyes caught his attention. The woman had taken off the helmet.

And she was...  _not_ what Peter was expecting. He was prepared for yet another ugly scaled alien from Yondu's crew, but she was the opposite. Literally the complete opposite. Her skin was bronzed and practically flawless, with eyes so dark that he couldn't see the pupils. She had a sharp jaw and straight nose, lips pursed as though just looking at Peter irked her. Although her hair was cut into a sharp pixie, it suited her well. Made her more intimidating. She looked...

"Are you human?" Peter blurted.

The woman's eyebrows scrunched together and her lip curled. "No," she said, voice no longer being masked by a device. Her voice was deep, almost husky sounding.

Reaching under the table, she grabbed something and threw it at Peter's chest. He caught it and saw that it was a bundle of clothes.  _His_  clothes. "Get changed," she ordered.

"You  _did_  want me to strip," Peter muttered with a grin like it was the biggest revelation in the world. He turned to the blue kid with a cocky expression. "Called it."

When he looked back at the woman, she didn't look amused. "Get changed, Quill," she repeated with more bite.

"Do you mind, uh..." He swivelled his finger in a circle, whistling. "I don't really like having an audience."

She rolled her eyes and looked like she wanted to object, but didn't, and turned around with her arms crossed over her armour-clad chest. The horned kid averted his eyes and stared at the ground, chewing the inside of his lip. Did he even speak?

Peter stripped the blue prison uniform off his body, which smelled like a dead cat since he wasn't allowed to shower, and swapped it for his red leather jacket, grey shirt and black pants. As he knelt next to the shower drain to lace up his boots, something landed on the floor in front of him.

When Peter saw the object, he looked up at the woman questionably, who shrugged. "Yondu said you'd have a fit if you didn't have it," she stated.

Peter finished up lacing up his boots and picked up his Walkman and earphones, strapping it to the belt he secured tightly around his waist.

"And... my weapons?" he asked expectantly.

She fixed him with a hard stare. "I'm not trusting you with a gun until you're back with Yondu and out of my way," she stated. Her eyes darted to the blue kid, who had his arms wrapped around his waist. He was visibly shaking. "I didn't expect to have anyone else, but three's a company." Peter nearly corrected her phrasing but didn't want to risk getting shot. "Got no clothes for you, but..." She looked the kid up and down, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Abruptly, she spun on her heel and crouched down next to the unconscious guard where the extra pile of clothes was. She stood up again, this time with a large piece of black cloth in her grasp. "Here. Put this on when you go outside." The child accepted it with shaky fingers. Peter saw the straps on each end and realised that it was a cloak.

Who the hell  _was_  this chick?

Moving on, she nodded her head towards the vent above her. "If you go up there, turn left, right and then keep going straight forward, you'll see the vent that leads to the other side. It'll place you right next to one of the prison's ship stop-off points. Mine should be close-by. It's red and called The Buccaneer. Find it and stay there until I get there." She grabbed something from the breastplate of the armour and tossed it towards Peter. It was the remote to her ship, he realised, taking a moment to twirl the device between his fingers before pocketing it. "Your other shit is in there, too."

"Wait, what about you?" Peter asked, glancing towards the kid who looked both petrified and confused. "Who the hell even are you?"

"I'm changing into my own clothes," she told him. "And you can call me Gen." Huh, a vaguely human name.

"What, so you can't have an audience, but  _I_ have no choice?" Peter asked.

"I'm not leaving myself vulnerable in front of a man who tried headbutting me three minutes ago," she pointed out. "And I've been told that you have a tendency to stare where you shouldn't."

"Geez. Thanks, Yondu," he muttered under his breath.

Gen ignored his comment and dropped the gun unceremoniously to the floor. She moved to the centre of the room, underneath the vent and clasped her hands together, palms facing up. "Hop on," she gestured.

"No offence, lady, but..." Peter trailed off. "Well, I'm, like 200 pounds."

"I can assure you now that I'm perfectly capable of throwing you through that wall if you don't do what I say. Trust me, I can handle your weight," she said. Bossy, too, apparently. "Now get on and get up."

Peter reluctantly did as he was told, placing his foot in her clasped hands as he braced himself on her shoulder. He wasn't expecting her to throw him up so hard that he almost hit the top of the vent with his head. He caught himself in time, though, and climbed in to give the horned kid enough room to catch himself, too. Turned out that she was super strong. Great. Maybe not so human, then.

Gen was gentler with the small creature which irked Peter, but he pressed his lips together.

"Remember: left, right, forward. Red ship, The Buccaneer," he heard her voice call out. "And if you try to leave without me I will find you and murder you. I have backup. And your ships' coordinates."

"Got it!" Peter shouted back, before looking over his shoulder at the kid. "You get that?" he whispered. The blue-skinned thing nodded with wide eyes. "Good." Peter flashed a smile before crawling forward. The vent was a tight fit but thankfully, Peter was small enough so only his back dragged against the top.

He turned left at the first T-section and looked down to see a room between the metal grates. It was one of the rooms where the prisoners' stuff was kept. Looked like no one was occupying the area.

He kept moving forward with the kid following closely and turned right at the next intersection. A dozen metres ahead was the opening to the outside, just like the woman said. When Peter reached the vent, he noticed that the screws holding it together were loosened. He looked outside and saw that there was a stop-off station a hundred or so feet in front of them and that it was devoid of guards or anyone else, for that matter. He wondered if that was the woman's doing or just good timing?

With nimble fingers, Peter undid the screws fully and pushed the vent cover fully off, catching it in time so it wouldn't hit the floor and make a noise. The coast looked clear, but you can never be too sure. He didn't necessarily trust the work of other people, no matter how hot they might be.

The drop was only a few feet which was remarkably easier than having to drop down the ten or so feet that it was on the other side of the prison. He hauled himself out and used his hands to safely slide himself across the floor, and then he was free. There were no signs of life left or right, only inside the stop-off station, so they would be safe for now.

He helped the horned kid get out by grabbing him under his armpits and setting him on his feet. "You should... probably..." Awkwardly, Peter took the large cloak out of the kid's arms and wrapped it around his small shoulders, tying it in a knot in front of his neck. The cloak had clasps on each shoulder, so the woman probably had armour tailored specifically for it to fit. Interesting.

Peter stood up straight and smiled to himself, inhaling the fresh scent of... body odour and gas.

Shaking his head, he moved forward with the kid tripping on his heels and made it to the station without a second glance being passed their way. Now, just to find The Buccaneer. Peter glanced around but couldn't catch sight of any red ships, only dark blues and greens and blacks and yellows and...

He felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket and angled his head so he was looking down at the kid. He raised a blue finger and pointed straight ahead but slightly to the left, to a dark red ship with  _The Buccaneer_  scratched on the side.

"Good job, kid." Peter threw a smile over his shoulder as he picked the remote from his pocket.

The Buccaneer was a decently sized ship - large enough so a few people could inhabit it but small enough so it wasn't overzealous - and was shaped like a sphere, but the front dipped into a blunt point. That was presumably where the pilot controls were.

Peter pressed the only button on the control as they reached it and the side door lifted - he couldn't deny it was an awesome looking ship, but his way far better Had more room for more people.

He let the kid go inside first and followed, before making sure that they weren't being followed. A few people were getting in and out of their ships, but none paid close attention to the pair.

One step closer to freedom.

* * *

 

It was around 20 minutes later when they saw Gen again. Peter and the kid - who didn't say a single word despite how much Peter was aimlessly nattering away - were sitting in the living area on some sofas close to the controls of the ship. He was obviously tempted to simply drive the ship away since she gave him the key but decided to take her threat to heart. He had no doubt that she would find them and murder him. She probably wouldn't kill the kid, though.

"Keep yourself seated," Gen ordered as she walked through the open doors of her ship, not even glancing over at her guests when she moved to the cockpit. She looked a tad different than when Peter last saw her. Instead of the heavy armour of the guard's suit, she was wearing a much more slim-fitting outfit - a thick corset-like top that sleeves ended mid-forearm and black fitted trousers - with a pair of fingerless leather gloves and combat boots. There were small adjustments to the outfit like the small bag attached to the belt of her pants, and an empty thigh and arm holster on her upper arm. "They caught me as I was entering the vent and we have about two minutes before they notice you're gone." Gen flipped a few buttons and lights came on in the skirting boards lining the ship.

The engine came to life to life and hummed beneath Peter's feet. His hands were on the couch he was occupying, not quite sure what to do. "Do you need any help?"

"It's my ship, jackass," she muttered, sitting herself down in the pilot's chair. She strapped herself in and glanced back, lip curling slightly. "Do I actually have to tell you to sit the hell down?" Gen asked in exasperation. "Unless you want to be splattered over my interior, hurry up."

Peter and the kid shared a look of wide-eyed confusion before hurriedly standing up, just as the ship began to ascend. Peter almost stumbled over the table but caught himself just in time, using the armrest of the chair to steady himself. His feet carried him to the co-pilot seat and judging by the side eye he got from the woman, he should have just taken the one next to the blue kid, but he secured the straps across his chest anyway, his green eyes staring out the glass in front of him. There was a smaller screen in the corner displaying the view behind the ship where he could see a dozen or so guards running towards them, aiming their guns towards the ship and shooting, but there was no impact against the vehicle.

Gen pulled and twisted the steering mechanism in front of her, making the ship take a sharp turn. Peter was slammed forward at the unexpected movement, momentarily winded from the impact of the leather seat-belt against his chest, but kept his eyes set in front of them and watched as she steered her way above the other parked ships, heading straight towards the exit where a blue shield was beginning to descend.

"We're not gonna make it," Peter tried to warn Gen.

"Shut up," she hissed in response. Her glove-clad fist grasped around the edge of a bright red lever and she pushed forward with her body, gritting her teeth. The ship gradually began to pick up speed the further she pushed, everything around them becoming a blur apart from the objective in front of them; their way of escaping.

Only several meters of free space beneath the shield was empty and it was rapidly closing, yet the ship flew right under it as though it was nothing.

And they were out in open space. Peter didn't realise that the prison was kind of its own planet, a large sphere with a blue artificial ozone layer wrapped around it. The prison was isolated, no moons circled it and they were no planets close by from what he could see.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked, not aiming the question to anyone in particular. Well, the kid probably wasn't going to answer.

"Brion 21M," Gen answered. She hit the autopilot button on the console and tapped some coordinates into a holographic screen attached to her wrist that looked like an old-timey watch, before unstrapping herself and standing up. Peter and blue kid followed suit. "Nova Corps funded it to be as far as away from other planets as possible so they could keep the worst criminals away from the people."

"Wait, so why was I in there?" he asked with drawn eyebrows, following her like a puppy to the makeshift kitchen. "I'm not a criminal."

"Yeah, right," she murmured with a quirked lip. "An outlaw is just a criminal who doesn't want to be called a criminal. And you don't have a great reputation around these parts. You call yourself Star-King or something, yeah?" She opened the mini-fridge underneath one of the cabinets and grabbed a bottle of water.

"No, it's Star...  _Lord_ ," he corrected, disheartened.

"That's much better," Gen commented blandly. Did she just  _mock_ him? "Yondu sent you to Kointrev." Eh, close enough. "I'm guessing you've never heard of it since you walked in like you owned the place and tried stealing Caibus' shit." She uncapped the water, back facing Peter, and took a long swig from it. A non-human that drank water, huh.

"And Yondu sent you to find me?" he pressed. "And if you're not human, what are you? Some kind of hybrid?"

"Can you take a step back?" Gen spun around, and Peter realised how close to her he actually was. He was almost touching his front to hers. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he did as she said and took a step back. "I'm fine with questions but I'm not answering anything about me, certainly from a Ravager." She stared at him expectantly, twitching her head to the side.

Peter frowned for a moment but then understood. " _Oh_ , right, sorry," he muttered, moving away so she could glide past him.

The kid was sat back on his chair with his eyes drawn to the floor. Gen walked towards him and nudged the water bottle in his direction. For a moment, the child looked up at her with wide eyes, but at the woman's eyebrow raise, he hurriedly took it and gulped down half the bottle.

"You got a home?" she asked him, settling herself down on the coffee table with soft but impassive eyes. "Anywhere to go back to?"

Again, the kid's lip parted and moved ever so slightly like he was talking, but Peter heard nothing.

"Thought as much." Gen pulled her lips between her teeth and nodded her head. "Could always take you to a nearby orphanage?" The kid's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. Gen held her hands out reassuringly. "Hey, that's fine, slugger. You can stay here until we find something. Is that okay?" He nodded, sharp black nails tapping anxiously against the plastic bottle. "What's your name?" A smile spread across her face. "Avi, huh? That's a nice name. Here, why don't you follow me and I'll get you something more comfortable to wear." She hauled herself up and the kid - Avi - followed her to a corridor in the ship, which presumably led to the bedrooms.

"Quill." Gen stopped before she left the living area, gazing at him pointedly. "If you try anything stupid, I'll make sure you won't live to try it again."

Peter smiled. "Got it, boss." He mock-saluted, earning a shake of the head from Gen, and then she was gone.

Oh, she wasn't gone long enough for him to find any way of escaping or contacting Yondu. Just as his ass met the settee, Gen walked back in, sans her previous uniform. She still had on the same pants and gloves but had on a black tank top, showing off toned arms and a lithe body. Hot damn.

"Do you have super-speed, too?" Peter asked quietly to himself, almost in awe.

"No. If I had, breaking you out of prison would be much easier," Gen replied, moving past him. She sat on her pilot chair and spun it around so it was facing Peter, pulling up another hologram and typing something into it. It was backwards from Peter's perspective, so he couldn't read it. "Yondu called and said he'd tear my ship apart if I didn't bring you back unscathed. I have a feeling he doesn't like me."

"Well," he shrugged, "not to hurt his damaged reputation, but he has a vendetta against pretty much everybody. I wouldn't take it to heart."

"And everybody that has a vendetta against me wants me dead, so I'm going to take it to heart," she said, standing up. The hologram disappeared as she walked through it, once again walking past Peter to sit down in a lazy-boy-esque chair, throwing her feet up on the table.

"You're an outlaw, too?"

Gen snorted. "I'd rather shiv myself." Gee, thanks. "No. I'm a mercenary of sorts but never call me a mercenary. The people I encounter tend to draw their guns and start bar fights. Something you're used to, I'm guessing."

"Eh, depends on the planet," Peter said truthfully. "I'm guessing Gen isn't your real name, then? Odd-jobs around the galaxy, saving outlaws from prison, taking orders from Yondu... you must have made a lot of enemies, huh. I hope the pay is good. How much is he paying you, by the way?"

"If I get you back in the next 12 hours, then I'm getting a lot of units," she told him vaguely. Didn't sound like Yondu, paying  _someone_  to do anything for him let alone paying them a shit ton of units. "And I don't take orders from anyone. I get given a location and objective and I do it in my own terms."

"And your name?" He raised an eyebrow.

"My name is Genevia."

"Huh." Peter's lip pulled downwards, nodding in approval. "Yeah, suits you somehow. Scary, mysterious, a bit weird..."

"I was told you run your mouth a lot."

"Yeah, I gotta work on that," he said apologetically. "So, Genevia-"

"Never call me that," she warned. "You're only here for a very short time so don't get friendly, Quill."

"Right,  _Gen_ ," he corrected. She'd rather be called by her nickname rather than her full name. Strange, for someone who seemed so closed off. "You can call me Peter, by the way. Just… saying." At her blank stare, he asked, "So, uh, what's that kids deal?" He nodded towards the bedroom. "Why doesn't he talk?"

Her eyebrows pulled together. It was the most emotion he'd seen from her since, well, he met her. At least directed towards  _him_. "You don't know him?" And then added to herself, "Of course he doesn't. Stupid human."

"Offensive."

"Ask Yondu when you get back," Gen said, ignoring his comment. "Speaking of, he wants to call you. Want me to get him on the line?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why not." He might get some answers that way.

Despite her asking him, she didn't seem very happy about getting up again. Her lip twitched like she wanted to object, but she didn't which was more than a surprise. Peter guessed it was to do with her payment rather than either his or Yondu's happiness.

She walked over to a console on the left of the ship, although it looked like a terminal similar to the one on Peter's own ship. She pressed a few buttons and gestured for Peter to walk over without ceasing her typing. He stood behind her, rocking on his feet and sneakily glancing over her shoulder to look at her contacts. Peter frowned. They were all numbers, from one to however many they were.

"Okay," Gen started, hitting the contact '23', "I'm going to pretend that you weren't trying to stick your nose in my privacy for your own sake."

"How the  _hell-?_ "

"Wait for him to pick up," she cut off, stepping back. After giving Peter a one-over, she shook her head and grabbed his shoulders, shoving him directly in front of a screen. He tripped over his own feet but thankfully caught himself. Face-planting in this woman's home would be pretty humiliating.

Yondu's face lit up on the screen. It displayed him from the shoulders up and he looked alone, no Ravagers nearby. "Quill," he greeted, seeming almost... happy?

"Yondu, it's always great to see your big blue ugly face again," Peter said, wringing his hands in front of him. "The mission didn't exactly work out since you told me that the dude was a dimwit, forgetting the fact he's twice my height and nearly killed me-"

"Yeah, yeah." Yondu waved his hand around, cutting him off. "You're still alive, ain't ya?" Peter scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Well, not disbelief necessarily because Yondu was a cold-hearted dick who cared more about units than Peter, but still, he was at least expecting a thank you for almost dying. "Bella there?"

"Who's Bella?"

"I'm here." Peter jumped at Gen's voice, who had apparently been hovering over his shoulder this entire time without him even noticing.

Also...  _Bella?_ That was very unintimidating. Way less intimidating than Gen.

"When ya gonna get him back?" Yondu asked the woman.

"12 hours, tops," she answered curtly. "You want me to get him to his ship?"

"Nah, just get him back to us."

"Got it. And if you try to fuck me over in any way, I'll stab you in the throat with your own arrow."

Yondu smiled wide, revealing a row of jagged yellow teeth, and barked out a chuckle. "Sure thing, Bella. Sure thing."

And then he hung up.

"So much for a conversation," Peter murmured, unable to help his irritation seep through his tone. They exchanged three sentences. Three sentences.

"That wasn't for your benefit, Quill," Gen –  _or Bella?_  – explained briefly.

"Oh, yeah?" He turned around to keep his eyes on the woman as she moved past him, once again sitting down on her chair. She leaned forward and grabbed something from under the table – a bottle, he figured, with some grey liquid inside – and pulled a knife from out of nowhere, stabbing it in the bottle's cap to fling it off. "God, you're cool," he breathed in awe. It was like she was some badass loner chick from a cheap sci-fi flick.

Gen leaned back in her seat, taking a generous gulp of the drink. "Fire Eclipse," she stated, holding up the bottle for him to see, before pointing it towards the couch. "You don't have to stand there for 12 hours, you know. I make threats, but I only act on them when people try to screw me over," she… reassured _?_  Was that reassuring? Or was it another underlying threat? He couldn't tell the difference at this point.

Either way, Peter retook his seat on the sofa, eyeing the woman suspiciously. "You seem considerably more relaxed than before," he commented, noticing how she wasn't biting out her words, but talking like a normal human… thing. "You know, not as scary- well, you're still scary, but you seem nicer about it. You didn't threaten Yondu which is a first, and he didn't threaten you back…"

"Because he's a Zoatin, Quill. A Ravager," Gen said. "He thinks he's cunning when he isn't, believes he can outsmart me when he can't."

Peter frowned. Was he missing something here?

"He's planning to scam me," she elaborated. "Probably kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder as soon as I give you back."

"Uh… what?" That wasn't a surprise to Peter, if anything, it explained a lot. But Yondu wasn't an idiot, he wouldn't take risks like this with a woman that likely has a lot of friends, so what made her so special? So valuable?

"He lied to you about your mission," Gen explained. "Said that Caibus is a dimwit when he's one of the smartest and strongest guys on that planet. Unless Yondu is sending one of his guys to die, he would have sent a bunch of you to steal from him, but I don't think he'd get rid of his only human that swiftly." Huh. He guessed that made sense. "And you looked surprised when I told you Yondu sent me, didn't seem too adamant on calling him so I guessed that he usually leaves you to your own devices, to get out of situations yourself. And there's the fact he wants me to bring you to him myself instead of taking you to your ship. As someone who does this kind of stuff a lot, I'm sure you understand that having a buyer want to give you units in person doesn't end well." Peter shrugged indifferently, but she was right. The number of times he has been stabbed was unreal.

"Ignoring all that," Gen continued. "He's a Ravager. It's what they do."

"I'm a Ravager, too," Peter said, slightly offended.

"You're human," she pointed out. "You still have human tendencies. You were brought up in a human home with human parents. They might be your family, but you're not like them."

Peter let a grin ooze onto his face. "Was that a compliment?"

"No. Your kind is weak. And slightly pathetic."

"Slightly?" he asked.

Gen shrugged a shoulder. "I've met a few good humans."

"Am I one of them?"

"Definitely not."

"Am I the worst?"

"No, but you're up there."

"Hey, that's something!" Peter exclaimed, self-satisfied. "Miss Scary thinks I'm  _one_  of the worst humans she's ever encountered, but not the  _worst_."

Gen… smiled? Gen smiled. Gen  _actually_  smiled, like, showing teeth and everything smiled. He just made Gen smile! Gen, the woman that he has only known for around an hour but he already knows that she doesn't do fun,  _smiled_.

"That look on your face is so gross," Gen muttered, lip turned at the gleeful grin on Peter's mouth. "Stop it."

"I just made a cute girl smile, so…"

"Don't think I won't hurt you."

"You said that you only act on your threats when people screw you over, and I'm not going to screw you over, so I'm not taking that to heart."

Gen rolled her eyes with a quiet scoff, but Peter could see the lingering smile playing at her lips.

"By the way," Peter decided to add, "what are you?"

Gen raised an eyebrow.

Okay, that sounded much less rude in his head.

"I-I mean, like uhh…" Peter stammered for words while Gen stared at him, almost in a teasing manner. Or maybe she was into people struggling? It wouldn't surprise him. "Because you're Gen but also Bella. Is it like an alias? And apparently, you're pretty valuable, so are… you…? I planned this out better in my head."

"It's fine." Gen tapped her fingers against the neck of her bottle, which was increasingly draining. "My true name is Genevia and my kind were the Bellator Fortis, hence the name. A few hundred years ago, the Nova Prime didn't like how powerful we were becoming, both in wars and politics, so they committed genocide and murdered most of us. Destroyed our planet, too. Donum, it was called."

Peter's eyebrows drew together in a crease. "That was during the civil war, right?" he asked, vaguely remembering hearing about it from one of the Ravagers. "Between the Nova Prime and Nova Corps. They couldn't agree on what to do."

Gen nodded, a slow head bob to acknowledge his words. "You know about it?"

"Not much," Peter admitted, "but I know it kicked the Nova Prime out of government. The Corps took over."

"Who do you think kicked them out?" Gen gave a small smile. A gentle one, even, like she was remembering something nice. Something beautiful. "The Bellator Fortis were warriors, not civilians. When half of our planet was eradicated, we fought back. Broke past defences and killed the Minister. When most of us died, the Corps claimed that victory as their own. Since only a couple of us survived, we didn't argue."

"And you're the only one left?" he asked quietly. He might be away from Terra, but at least he knew that his kind was still alive.

"Yeah," Gen confirmed. She didn't sound upset or remorseful, but more like she was stating facts. No emotion, no hint of vulnerability. After a few hundred years, she must have learned how to press that stuff down. "We had this prophecy, ' _Qui Eam Ne Nos Inducas'_. It translates to 'She Who Will Lead Us', and whoever was born on the night of a ferocious storm would be that prophecy. The stronger the storm, the stronger that warrior would be, and the more capable they are of leading. I happened to be that person born on the night of a storm. It destroyed homes and wiped out most of our crops," that wasn't much of a shock to Peter, "but the people were full of hope. They were ready for me to lead them away from the Nova Prime's way of rule, and…" Gen stopped there, recollecting herself. "The remaining Bellator's did everything to protect me. So here I am. The only one left. So, yeah, Quill. I'd say I'm valuable."

"So, you have a bounty on your head or something?" Peter asked, curious. He's never met someone like her before, which was a pretty good achievement since he had seen pretty much everything in the galaxy.

"Yeah. About a thousand." The sentence should have been a joke, but if Peter knew anything about this woman, it was that she didn't joke. Kind of straight-forward, a lot of things probably flew over her head. Still, a  _thousand_  bounties? Even for him, that was a lot.

"What about the kid – Avi?" Peter swiftly changed the subject. He was still curious about that little guy.

"An uncommon race, but not a rare one," Gen informed him. "They live away from civilisation, in the parts of the galaxy where Nova has no hold over."

"Ah." That explained why he hadn't seen any before. "And the lack of speaking?"

"They speak telekinetically. And they're not a fan of most races."

That made even more sense. "How'd he end up in a prison where the worst criminals are kept, anyway? He looks like he'd have trouble picking up a penny."

"He broke into one of the most secure facilities in this region and stole a million units from the governor's bank," Gen said.

"Whew, that's impressive," Peter whistled. "Aren't I glad I didn't piss him off."

"I don't know. Are you?"

"That wasn't… That was a rhetorical—Okay." Peter shook his head. No rhetorical questions, then. Or metaphors. Or plays on words and phrases. Or sarcasm, probably. "So, um… about the Yondu scamming and probably wanting to sell you or maybe even kill you thing… Maybe… don't kill him?"

"Of course I'm not going to kill him," she stated with a tone of near disgust, like the idea of suggesting such a thing was sickening.

"Right, you're smart." Peter help up his hands, chuckling. "You don't want a group of Ravagers going after you." Gen stared at him, unblinking. "Well, I'm sure a group of mercenary scumbags is nothing to you," he immediately defended, "since you've, you know, fought the government and got rid of the Nova Prime, which is very impressive, by the way, as a side note, and I didn't mean to suggest—"

"Quill," Gen cut him off with a quirked lip. "You're too easy to scare." She was messing with him? She really just messed with him? Wow, this was definitely an alternative universe. Did alternative universes even exist? "You should shower and get some rest. We've still got over 11 hours left and you smell like a sewer."

Peter's eyebrows rose minutely, slightly insulted at the blatant, though true, assessment. "Are you ever gonna say  _'no offence'_  after every sentence you speak?"

"Why would I say that when I mean it?"

"I…" Peter was almost at a loss for words. Peter Quill, Star-Lord, King of the Quips, was nearly speechless. "To be polite?"

Gen shrugged, drained the rest of her drink, and then stood up. "I'll show you to the bathroom. Remember—"

"Not to do anything stupid or you'll rip the ligaments out of my living body and then wear them as a necklace, I got it."

Gen stared at him. "I don't like jewellery."

Okay. Maybe he would just sleep for the remaining 11 hours.

* * *

 

**_Genevia_ **

It had been a few hours since Gen led Quill to one of her guest bedrooms, where a bathroom was also situated. He made some crude joke about her joining him in the shower – if she was being honest, she didn't understand, but judging by the waggling eyebrows and suggestive grin, it was something of the sexual variety. Men were strange in that way.

Gen was now sat in her pilots' seat, feet slung up on the co-pilot one with her watch's hologram lit up in front of her, deciding what her next move should be.

She needed to find a way to escape Yondu's clutch as soon as she could while still taking the half a million units he promised to send her. Rushing in head first sounded good, it would certainly catch him off guard, but Gen didn't think it was worth the risk. She memorised the ship's layout in case of an emergency, but she didn't know its controls. Yondu could easily shut down the entire area and leave her with no place to escape. That was something she didn't want.

On the other hand, being overly cautious would work to her benefit. Yondu would expect her to be apprehensive about meeting him, so she could play on those expectations, make him think that she fell into his trap, and then make a move.

Padded footsteps trailing down the corridor made Gen's ears perk. They were too light to be Quill's, so she guessed Avi had woken.

Just like she predicted, the kid walked into the room with nervousness sunken into his expression. Gen smiled gently and gave a short nod.

"Sleep well, slugger?" she asked, tapping a button on the watch to get rid of the hologram displaying the Ravager's ship coordinates.

 _It was comfortable_ , he replied in her head.

"Good." Gen nodded. She probably wasn't going to get used to him talking in her mind. Still, it was better than him being able to read her thoughts. "Quill didn't wake you, did he?"

_No, but he snores loudly._

Gen shook her head, suppressing a grin. "Of course he does," she muttered. Her mood had significantly brightened since Yondu's brief but useful call with Quill when she pieced together that he was going to attempt to trick her. Gen knew she would be able to escape even if she hadn't figured it out, but it was nice knowing for sure. "So, what do you want to do after I drop Quill off?" Gen asked Avi. The kid looked down guiltily. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind the company. And I'm not willing to leave you out there on your own." She crossed her arms over her stomach. "Us rare species have to stick together, right?"

_Are you not going to ask about my family?_

"Nah." Gen shook her head, shrugging a shoulder. "Didn't even have to talk to you to know you have issues with them."

Avi frowned.  _What makes you say that?_

"Your people are wealthy," she pointed out. "Why else would you want to steal a million units unless you wanted to run away from something?"

The kid shrugged and offered no kind of response. Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long.

"I hear voices," Quill spoke, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he walked to the living room. "Well, voice. I hear voice. How long have we got left?"

"2 hours at most," Gen informed him. "But Yondu said he might meet us at a stop-off point 30 minutes away. So maybe 30 minutes."

"So decisive," the man muttered. "Sorry for sleeping for so long. It's a shame I didn't get to know the person that helped me on an emotional, and maybe physical, level, but what can you do, huh? I can be one of your ominous numbers, 69 would be pretty funny, and—"

"Quill," Gen cut off with a raised eyebrow. "Your pants?" His leather jacket was nowhere to be seen and his shirt was crumpled, but the thing that mildly disturbed Gen was that he was only wearing a pair of boxers on his bottom half, not even with a pair of socks.

Quill looked down at himself, looked back up, and shrugged. "Eh. You've already seen me naked."

"I turned my head," she reminded him.

"I bet you got a peek, though," he teased, grinning lazily with his hip propped against the kitchen's counter, arms crossed over a broad chest. Maybe he wasn't so pathetic. He looked like he would be a challenge in a fight. Not against her, because she would knock him flat in a second, but against anyone else, maybe.

"I had more interesting things to look at," she said, acting oblivious to his flirtations.

"Like my face?"

"The unconscious guard," she corrected. "And the dozens more that chased after me because you couldn't break yourself out of a prison."

"But that was the point, wasn't it?" Quill tapped his finger against his chin. "So Yondu could get a hold of you."

Gen's eyes lingered on him momentarily, lips twitching into a smile, but she turned away when her tablet rang with a message. She decided to ignore Peter's triumphant fist bump in the air.

**Meeting up at Duplex Crux. Already here, so hurry your ass up.**

**Yondu**

Pressing her lips together, Gen turned to her main monitor and typed in the coordinates to the location.

"We have 40 minutes before we land," Gen spoke to the people with her. "Get everything packed up, Quill, and put on your pants. Avi, get cleaned up. There should be some spare clothes in the guest room that'll fit you."

Quill gave a salute and Avi sent her a grateful, slightly awkward, smile before they turned and walked into their temporary rooms.

Gen momentarily visited her bedroom to grab her usual gear and got changed in record time. Her protective corset, fingerless leather gloves, combat boots, the cloak she gave to Avi, and lastly, equipped her weapons in their respective places; her arm and thigh holsters. She wasn't a huge gun person since they were so entwined with death, but she packed her stun gun as a precaution. It wouldn't kill, but it'd sure as hell do some damage.

The cloak was a comfortable weight on her shoulders, something familiar to her. Something she knew would protect her, even if it was only a piece of material. It gave an aura of mystery, intimidation, even, and she always felt more powerful with it trailing behind her, her hood pulled over her head.

Gen fastened the straps to her shoulders and tugged at it to ensure it would stay. After a moment of consideration, she kept the hood lowered. They still had a while left.

She walked back into the main living space to see Quill stood in the centre, wearing his red leather jacket and pants, with no sign of Avi. He had his musical device in hand, the one that Yondu wanted to make sure Gen got, with a wire connecting the device to his ears. He was swaying slightly, humming under his breath, and Gen could only just hear a voice singing a smooth melody, though she couldn't hear the words being spoken.

Gen crossed her arms over her chest, gloved hands circling her upper arms, and she took a moment to watch the oblivious human.

He was strange, there was no doubt about it. He flirted more than anything else in the galaxy, had a knack of running his mouth and put up a façade to mask the pain that he was feeling, similarly to Gen, although she hated herself for admitting that. She knew that Quill lost his mother before being abducted by Yondu. She knew he slept with almost any species, and he was infamous for pissing off people in power.

Once again, similar to Gen.

With a short sigh to cover her tiny smirk, Gen cleared her throat quite loudly.

Quill spun around but didn't seem startled in the slightest. His eyebrows were slightly raised, and he had a grin playing at his lips, fingers still wrapped around the device.

"I'm guessing you don't have music in here?" he asked, no longer swaying, but his boot was tapping against the floor in a slow beat.

"You guess correctly," she answered with a nod. "There are more useful things to install into my ship."

The man shrugged indifferently. "Still, music is the way to the soul." When Gen questioningly tilted her head at Quill, he held out his free hand towards her. "Come on. This is the best thing your ears will ever hear, I promise."

"I prefer silence," Gen muttered but stepped forward regardless.

She let Quill wrap his fingers around her hand, let him pull her closer to his body and let him place an earbud in her left ear, the wire connected to the one in his. He pressed a button on the device and there was a moment of silence before a soft strumming played in her ear, quiet at first but it began building up.

"Space Oddity, David Bowie," Peter said with a smile, swaying gently to the music with his hand still clasped in hers. His fingers were calloused, rough from the years of fighting, most likely, similar to Gen's, but his palms were softer. He fought more with his own hands than weapons, then. "One of the best songs created by the best artist ever, hands down."

"I've never heard of him," Gen commented, eyes locked onto Quill's. His swaying became more prominent, and she didn't have much choice but to follow his lead, taking a slight step closer to the human. "He's from Terra?"

"Mhmm." Quill nodded his head, shifting his body closer to Gen's as his eyes fluttered shut, a smile residing on his lips. " _Ground Control to Major Tom_ ," he sang softly in time with the singer's – David Bowie's – smooth voice. " _Commencing countdown, engines on_."

His other hand, the one not holding hers, rested on her waist, gently urging her to move. Gen, with an ounce of hesitation, moved her own hand and placed it atop his shoulder, lining her body with his. Only inches separated them.

" _Check ignition and may God's love be with you_."

His fingers tapped her waist in time to the steady beat. She could only just feel it due to the armour covering her body.

" _This is Ground Control to Major Tom_ ," he continued, subtly slipping his hand father around her waist so it was resting on her back, above her tailbone. " _You've really made the grade and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear._ "

"These lyrics are strange," Gen commented, interrupting Quill's euphoria. His eyes opened, and Gen realised just how green they were. Their faces were so close together; she could feel his warm breath fanning her lips.

"Me neither." Quill shrugged. "Still a good song, though."

When his arm wrapped further around her waist, hand resting on her hip, Gen moved to pull away, but he pulled her back towards him.

"There's just one thing, Quill," Gen breathed, parting her lips. She stared at him through her lashes.

"Yeah?" His eyes were hooded, and he leaned in closer to her.

"I want my knife back," she finished.

Quill blinked. "Huh?"

"My knife," she repeated, slipping her hand out of his to hold up her palm. "The one that you just stole from my holster. I'd like it back."

His eyes widened in surprise, mouth agape with the music still strumming in the background. Gen squeezed his shoulder in warning with a soft smile playing on her lips, and he removed his hand from her hip, dropping the knife into her open palm.

"Thank you. I'll give you your weapons before we land." She removed her hand from his shoulder and stepped away. "And you're right, Quill. It's a good song."

With one last look, she brushed past him and made her way to the pilot's seat, leaving Quill standing alone with his mouth hanging open.

It was dark at Duplex Crux, its sun hiding behind a cluster of planets miles away. It was a barren planet, void of any life, but it was a popular stop-off point for mercenaries to do their trading since the Nova Corps were never around to witness the trades. It could range from a group of bandits' heads to a simple drug deal, but it didn't make much of a difference. Even looking out of her ship's window now, she didn't even blink when a black body bag with blood dripping from ripped seams was being dragged across the dirt, leaving a wet trail in its wake.

It was a vastly open space that went so far back that Gen couldn't see the end, and ships landed in various spots. No buildings, no outposts, just simply nothing.

Which would make her job much easier.

Her ship was hovering several meters above a giant trash disposal where dead bodies tended to be dropped and Yondu's Ravager ship – she had to admit it was impressive, even if she'd rather watch it blow up – was a hundred or so feet in front of them, landed fully on the ground. Yondu himself was stood outside with his cronies surrounding him, one of which she recognised to be Kraglin, a respectable man despite his comrades.

"So, uh," Quill began, rocking on his heels, "are we, you know, going?"

Avi was locked inside the safe room in her bedroom in case things did go sideways, with a gun to protect himself and a jet-pack in case he needed to fly away. The jet-pack, once put on, would wrap a protective layer of oxygen around him so he could breathe long enough to escape.

Precautions were necessary, even if she was confident.

"Yeah," Gen murmured, pulling herself away from the window. Yondu whispered something to Kraglin, to which he nodded with nervousness seeped into his expression. "We're going."

She tapped a command into her watch and the doors of the ship opened, before a platform slid out from the bottom, only a few feet but big enough for her to stand. They were still far above ground and Gen wanted to speak with Yondu before she would make the 'transfer', also known as screwing up his plans before he would kidnap her. Or kill her. Or whatever the hell he wanted to do. He was a Ravager, after all, and they would do anything for units.

Gen stepped forward onto the platform, her cloak flying out behind her due to the wind and pulled the hood off her head. Quill followed after her, hands out as though he was balancing himself.

"Ravager!" she called out, loud enough to catch his attention. They weren't far away, so it wouldn't be difficult to communicate. But it would be difficult for him to get a decent hit on her or her ship, excluding his Yaka arrow, of course.

"What are you doing?" Quill whispered, hugging his arms around his chest. "And where's my gun?"

Gen ignored him and watched an ugly grin spread on Yondu's face, his sharp yellow teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Bella!" he called back, stepping forward. She had to admit, he took on the role as Captain quite well, judging by his men's respect towards him. "I see ya got my trade."

"And now I want mine," Gen stated, narrowing her eyes. Her hands were purposely away from the holsters on her body. "Transfer the units and I'll give him back." She nodded to Quill at her side.

"Naw, girl," Yondu chuckled, running his jagged teeth over his bottom lip. "Him first, and then you get yer units."

Gen let a smile pass her lips. "No," she disagreed lightly. "I want my 500,000 units first, and then I'll meet you down here with your merchandise. Unharmed."

" _Merchandise?_ " Quill repeated in a whisper. "I'm not a hooker."

"The boy first," Yondu argued.

Without warning, Gen grabbed Quill by the neck of his leather jacket and swung him over the edge of the platform, feinting her throwing him off, but catching him again last second. He hung off the edge, his legs dangling uselessly and hands gripping Gen's wrist hard as though she was going to let go.

" _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_ ," Peter hummed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I thought we were on the same side, holy  _shi_ — _!_ "

Even Yondu looked startled by the action, moving to take a step forward before Kraglin pulled him back. "I swear," he hissed.

"You don't give me the units or you use your arrow to slice my head off, I drop him in the disposal and he dies," she said, clenching her fist in the jacket's fabric when Quill tried to fling himself out of the hold. "Give me the units now and I'll park up real pretty next to you, and your guy will live. I'm not in the mood to get scammed, so what's it gonna be?"

"Fine." Yondu's lip curled and it seemed like he growled. It almost made Gen smile. Men like him hated being stuck with only one choice like this, in a lose-lose situation.

Gen's watch beeped and she glanced down, seeing that she now had an extra half million units in her account. Yondu probably thought he was going to get it back.

He thought wrong.

Gen leaned down to whisper in Quill's ear, "You know that I'm not a murderer, right?" she asked.

"I- uh- well- judging by the fact I'm about to  _die_ —"

"Do you have your jet-pack on you?" she cut him off.

"Uh,  _yeah_ ," he rustled. "You have your units,  _please_  let me back up. I thought you didn't mean your threats unless someone screwed you over!"

"If I drop you, you can use your jet-pack and fly to your crew, jackass," she told him, pulling something from the back of her pants and shoving it in Quill's jacket pocket. "Your gun. If you even think about shooting me… Well, I'm sure you get it by now."

"If I die, I am haunting you for the rest of your life," Quill muttered.

"I'm letting you go now."

"Wai-  _What?_ "

And she dropped him.

* * *

 

**_Peter_ **

I'm not a murderer, Gen said to Peter. I'm not a murderer, she said,  _three seconds before dropping him_.

For a few short seconds, Peter panicked and flailed about, screaming as he stared at the abyss rapidly approaching him.

And then he remembered that he had a jet-pack.

Peter punched the button that would lift him and almost cried in relief when his body stopped falling, only a few feet above the disposal where he would have been crushed to death in the most painful way.

He steered himself away from the death machine and stumbled onto solid ground, thinking over how much worse that could have gone.

He was never coming on this planet again.

Laying with his back pressed against the rocky surface, Peter watched as Gen disappeared inside her ship, cloak swishing with the movement, and he heard the unmistakable sound of Yondu's whistle, before the red blur of an arrow flew above his head, chasing after the moving ship.

The Yaka arrow didn't catch up fast enough as The Buccaneer become nothing but a prick in the distance, and Peter smiled to himself, thudding his head back.

Man, what a day.

* * *

 

**One Month Later**

* * *

 

Peter was sat alone at a bar, the deafening sounds of cheap music blasting in his ears. Not David Bowie, but some horrible techno music that made the outlaw want to claw his eardrums out.

Yondu was on his own mission and apparently didn't need Peter to be involved, so he decided to take his time to sit and chill for a while, maybe find someone to warm up the other side of his bed tonight and grab a few drinks while he was at it.

After Gen escaped, Yondu was, well, understandably not happy about how everything turned out. He lost half a million units, ruined his only chance of capturing the last of a species, and was basically humiliated because the plan he had been conjuring for a while crumbled. He's been doing odd jobs to get back the money, asking around and investigating where Gen might be, all while still pissing off everyone he comes into contact with.

Peter took another swig of his drink as someone took a seat next to him, resting their forearms on the bar in front of them.

The bartender – some yellow dude with spikes coming out of his forehead – grabbed a drink and set it down in front of them like he already knew what they wanted.

Peter read the label.

Fire Eclipse.

Peter chuckled quietly to himself. "That you?" he asked his neighbour.

"Depends," they spoke, "you gonna start something?"

"You're lucky I'm not Yondu," he commented.

"Guess so." Genevia removed the hood from her head, revealing her face. "Is he pissed?"

"That's an understatement."

"An understatement?" she asked with a frown.

Right. He forgot she was Miss Metaphor. "It's, like, when it's more dramatic, and it's understated, and… uh…"

Gen quirked her lip. "I'm messing with you, Quill," she said, taking a generous gulp of her Fire Eclipse. "I thought humans understood jokes."

Peter shrugged a shoulder. "Generally, yeah, when people say their joke in a jokey tone and not a completely blank look…"

"You may not be the worst, but you're one of the dumbest humans I've ever met."

"Excuse me?"

"No offence."

"Wha- Did you just?" Peter turned to look at her with a giant smile on his face. "Well, you just listened to a dumb human's advice, so who's the idiot now?"

"I'll ignore that one," Gen murmured with a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. "I can't stay much longer. I already see a lot of people giving me looks." As she stood from her stool, she locked eyes with the man seated in front of her and gave him a soft look. "I'll catch you later, Peter."

Gen patted his shoulder and walked away.

Something from her palm fell onto Peter's lap, a folded piece of paper, and with curiosity, he opened it.

**_You're now contact '69' in my log, as requested. I don't know what that means, but I'll catch you later, Quill._ **

**_Gen._ **

**_P.S. Show this to Yondu and I will act on my threats._ **

Peter grinned to himself, finished his drink, and then left to find his ship, hoping that she would contact him soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Three months, 2000 minutes of editing, and twenty pages on Word later, and I've finally finished this!!!
> 
> Generally, I'm not the hugest fan of Peter Quill but this was so fun to write. I hope it was as enjoyable for me as it was for you! 
> 
> Requests for one-shots are open:)


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